


evergreen

by Walkingfelony



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonds, Derek and Malia are bros, M/M, Mates, Politics AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkingfelony/pseuds/Walkingfelony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Hale hosts a Christmas Eve party every year at his home in D.C.</p>
<p>Derek attends every year.</p>
<p>It's where he meets Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	evergreen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reddwarfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/gifts).



> written for [darthkrytie](http://www.darthkrytie.tumblr.com) and the sterek haven secret santa exchange.
> 
> much thanks to the wonderful [Chelsea](http://www.ohgrayriver.tumblr.com) who puts up with betaing my fics last minute. all remaining mistakes are my own.

**Christmas Eve, 2014.**

 

“I guess it does run in the family.”

 

Derek turns to face Peter, raising an eyebrow at his uncle. “What are you talking about?”

 

Peter raises his wine glass toward the young man standing with Derek’s obviously drunk cousin, Malia. “Omegas have always been a weakness for the Hale men.” He smirks. “And the Hale women apparently.”

 

“Who said anything about the omega?” he asks as he turns to face his uncle head on in an attempt to avoid glancing back in the omega’s direction. It’s not like he was _really_ looking at him, anyway.

 

“Well,” Peter begins, “if it’s not the omega that has your pheromones wafting through the air, then it’s Malia.” He takes a sip of his drink and looks over Derek’s shoulder. “And I would have a problem with that.” His eyes dart over to Derek quickly. “You are on your suppressants, aren’t you? Don’t want a repeat of the Paige debacle.”

 

“That won’t be a problem,” Derek assures his uncle.

 

“What won’t be a problem?” 

 

Derek nearly jumps at the sound Malia’s voice in his ear, loud and slurred. Turning slightly to look where his cousin has appeared over his shoulder, he’s about to come up with some kind of distracting comment, but he catches sight of the omega standing right behind her, his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets.

 

The omega looks up at Derek as if he knows that Derek’s been watching him. And then he smirks.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter says airily, taking a step closer to the omega while smiling his wolfish politician grin. “Who’s your friend?”

 

“Stiles,” Malia says quickly, drawing Derek’s attention away from where the omega stands with an amused look in his eye. She drains her glass before leaning against Derek and whispering into his ear loudly, “He’s an omega.”

 

“And you are drunk,” Derek says, wrapping his arm around his cousin’s waist. He glances over to where Peter stands with his jaw clenched. Making eye contact with his uncle, Derek says, “Let’s get you to bed,” before taking a step toward the stairs while pulling Malia with him.

 

“Can the omega come?” she asks, reaching her hand out toward Stiles. “He said he could find a way to bypass the house’s security cameras so Peter can’t monitor me like a baby anymore.” She giggles and leans forward. 

 

Derek glances at the omega--Stiles, contemplating inviting the young man up with them. But Stiles shakes his head at Malia.

 

“I actually have something to discuss with the Senator,” Stiles says, and Derek pauses at the sound of his voice--something pulls inside of him.

 

“I’m almost entirely certain he’s not my real dad,” Malia mutters. “We don’t even have the same last name.”

 

Peter gives an exasperated sigh and nods his head discreetly toward the staircase, prompting Derek to continue on with his aborted movement to the stairs.

 

“If we go now, we can catch the marathon of _Naked and Afraid_ ,” he tells Malia.

 

She perks up at that. “That’s my _favorite_ show,” she excitedly whispers in his ear. “Because they’re _naked_.”

 

“Yeah,” Derek glances at his uncle. “I’ll make sure she stays in her room,” he tells Peter before looking back at Stiles. “It was nice to meet you.”

 

Stiles gives Derek a very obvious once over before meeting Derek’s eyes and smirking. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something when Malia suggests, “Maybe you two should meet under the mistletoe! That’d be so hot.”

 

Derek rolls his eyes and pulls his cousin closer to him. “Better not. Otherwise we might miss the show.”

 

“Right,” she says as she begins to pull him toward the stairs. Then she yells, “I’m going to go watch naked people!” 

 

He follows her lead without a word. The sooner they leave, the better.

 

They’re almost to the stairs when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks over to see Stiles smiling at him while pushing a small gold clutch against Derek’s chest.

 

“She left this on the table when we were talking,” he says as Derek takes the clutch while Malia slumps against him. “I figure that she might want it.”

 

“Thanks,” Derek says, straightening his cousin up as best as he can. 

 

He doesn’t move, and neither does Stiles, both of them seemingly content to stand awkwardly in front of each other for a few moments doing nothing. But Malia makes a whining noise, and Derek realizes that he has a duty to tend to.

 

“I’ve got to--”

 

“Yeah, no problem,” Stiles says with a wave of his hand. “I need to get back to the Senator, anyway.” He takes a hesitant step forward, almost as if he were still trying to talk himself out of it, and looks at his feet before looking up at Derek from beneath his lashes. “But I could possibly be near the mistletoe around midnight in case you’d like to discuss poisonous plants.”

 

Derek feels Malia try to slip away from him, and he swings his other arm around her to keep her with him. He looks back at Stiles and offers him what he hopes is an apologetic smile. “It was nice to meet you, Stiles.”

 

Whether or not Stiles thinks of it as a rejection, Derek doesn’t know. But the omega smiles a smile that makes Derek want to come back down at midnight and says, “Merry Christmas,” before turning to walk back to Peter.

 

“Well you fucked that up,” Malia’s voice comes into his ear. 

 

He turns him and his cousin toward the stairs. “I thought you wanted to watch naked people,” he says as they begin their ascent.

 

“I do,” she says. “But not as much as you want to kiss the omega.” She releases herself from his arms and starts her walk toward her room. “I mean, I’m a beta and I want the omega. I bet it’s ten times worse as an alpha.”

 

“That’s because you’re not on suppressants,” he says, following her to her room.

 

She rolls her eyes as she leans against the door to her room. “Suppressants dull the senses and mask whether you’re taken or not. They are deceptive to those who may be interested in you.”

 

“So when you’re drunk, you go on political rants?” he asks, reaching into his pocket and fishing out a key to her room.

 

“I’m not that drunk, and suppressants are stupid,” she says again as he unlocks her door, immediately sobering up now that Peter isn’t around.  “I want to be able to reach out to my mate and feel the bond immediately, not let him, her, or them pass me by without me knowing.” She pushes through the door as soon as he opens it an inch. “For example, what if Stiles is your mate and you can’t tell because you’re both on suppressants? It’s not just suppressing pheromones and heat. It’s suppressing your bond.”

 

Derek shuts the door behind him as Malia continues to rant about the evils of suppressants. He lets her talk and change out of her evening gown as he turns on the television and finds the marathon of _Naked and Afraid_. She’s still going on as he takes off his shoes and suit and climbs onto the bed in his boxers and undershirt. She joins him clad in her grinch onesie and hands him a bottle of Peter’s personal brew that she must’ve taken from his study before the party.

 

“I’m just saying,” she finishes up as she sits cross-legged beside him, “you could be postponing a powerful bond by using your suppressants.”

 

He pats her lovingly, if not condescendingly, on the head before turning the volume up on the television, settling in to watch hours of different groupings of alphas, betas, and omegas try to brave it in the wild without their suppressants. 

 

&&&

 

**Christmas Eve, 2015.**

 

Someone bumps into Derek, causing champagne to spill down the front of his suit. He curses under his breath as he looks up to see who bumped him. _Stiles_.

 

Stiles doesn’t offer to help clean up the mess, he just stands there and stares at Derek with a smirk on his face as Derek alternates between wiping the liquid from his lapels and glaring up at Stiles. 

 

“Your uncle’s worried about you,” Stiles says as Derek decides that he’s cleaned up as best as possible given that they are standing in the corner of Peter’s ballroom.

 

“My uncle’s worried about himself,” Derek says setting his champagne flute down on the tray of a passing waiter. “He only worries about me if it’ll affect his standings in the polls.”

 

“True,” Stiles says, “But in any case--”

 

“Stiles,” Derek cuts him off. “Get to the point so that I can get back to pretending to enjoy this party, and you can get back to trying to find the alpha with the biggest knot for mating season.”

 

“I’m on suppressants.”

 

“I can smell alphas on you.”

 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “That’s my roommate and his mate, and you know it.”

 

Derek raises his eyebrows at the omega as implication that he should get back to the point, resulting in a sigh and a shrug before Stiles crosses his arms.

 

“You haven’t bonded, yet,” he says.

 

Derek shakes his head, turning to walk away from Stiles and his conversation. “That’s none of your business.”

 

“It kind of is,” Stiles continues, his footsteps audible above the Big Band Christmas music playing in the air. “As Peter’s head image consultant, it is my job to help him create the best family image possible.” Derek feels a hand grip his bicep, making him turn to see Stiles looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “He wants it to appear that you’ve bonded--or at least tried to mate.”

 

“I’ve tried to mate,” Derek growls, looking over his shoulder to where his uncle is watching them with interest.

 

Stiles releases his arm, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “Yes, and the media coverage of those three women was astounding and quite invasive, if you ask me.”

 

“Kind of like how you’re being invasive by bringing it up.”

 

“It’s my--”

 

“Job. I know. You keep telling me that,” he cuts Stiles off, glancing around the room at the mingling politicians who would rather spend Christmas Eve with their colleagues and competitors than with their actual families. He looks back to where Stiles is still looking at him. “Can I just have one night without you riding my ass about this?”

 

Dragging his hand over his face, Stiles consents, “Fine. But if Peter decides to cut ties--”

 

“Fuck Peter and his social standing.” Derek turns to where a waiter is passing by and grabs a flute of champagne off his tray.

 

“Derek--”

 

“I’m serious. Fuck him, fuck the media, and fuck you.” Derek downs his drink before looking up to see Stiles looking at him like Derek slapped him in the face. He shakes his head. “Look, I’ve known you for less than a year and you’re acting like you have the right to come up and tell me what I should be doing with my dating life. You don’t. Fuck you.”

 

He moves to walk away from Stiles when he hears him mutter, “A year.”

 

He stops and looks back at the omega. “What was that?”

 

“A year. You’ve known me for a year,” Stiles says, removing his hands from his pockets to cross them over his chest. “We met here last Christmas Eve.”

 

There’s a crash to his left, taking Derek’s attention away from Stiles. He smiles when he sees Malia crowding some guy into a corner as her nostrils flare. Her small friend Kira stands behind her, looking a bit confused as Malia begins to shout something at the guy cowering away from her.

 

Derek turns back to Stiles and gives him what Malia calls his ‘douchebag’ smile. “Looks like you’ll have something to keep yourself busy with for the next few weeks.” He drops his now empty glass on a passing tray and rolls his shoulders back. “Maybe you should try to fix Malia.”

 

Stiles’ arms drop to his sides. “Derek--”

 

“Derek,” Peter interrupts, sliding up beside him and squeezing his shoulder forcefully. He nods to where his daughter looks like she’s about to attack the partygoer. “Take care of this.”

 

“Maybe I should go with--” Stiles begins, but Derek stops him.

 

“I don’t need your help,” Derek tells him as he begins to walk away. 

 

He pauses for a moment, a tight feeling between his shoulders appearing like it used to whenever his mother would scold him. So he turns back to see Stiles with a slightly hurt look on his face. Derek takes a deep breath and calls Stiles’ name over the sound of Malia yelling about fifty feet away from him.

 

Stiles eyebrows shoot up at the sound of his name, though his face still seems guarded.

 

Derek offers what he hopes is an apologetic smile. “Merry Christmas.”

 

&&&

 

**Christmas Eve, 2016.**

 

“Derek?” he can hear Stiles calling for him, but that’s definitely the last thing that he wants right now. “Derek.” His voice is getting louder, and Derek hears his footsteps coming closer to the study’s doors. “Derek--”

 

The doors open, letting in the sound of the band playing Christmas music, and Derek sees the outline of Stiles standing between the oak. His shoulders look broader than usual, and the light from the party outlines him in a way that makes him look somewhat like a Christmas angel. Derek’s had too much to drink, obviously.

 

“What’s going on, buddy?” Stiles asks, stepping into the room while closing the door behind him. “You look like you’re having a rough night.” The omega comes closer, and Derek feels something rumbling inside of him. Stiles’ eyes drop toward the glass in Derek’s hand. “You know you’re not supposed to be drinking that much when you’re on suppressants--”

 

“It’s a good thing that I didn’t take them today, then, isn’t it?” Derek says, finishing his fifth--was it fifth--glass of whatever stuff Peter keeps in the bottom left drawer of his desk.

 

Stiles looks taken back when Derek makes eye contact with him. “You’re not on suppressants?”

 

“Nope,” Derek responds, popping the ‘p’ as he reaches for the bottle on the table next to his chair.

 

A hand stops him from grabbing hold of the bottle, and Derek feels like his skin is on fire...in the best way. He looks up to see that Stiles has moved next to him, a worried look on his face, and Derek feels--marginally better, actually.

 

“What’s going on?” Stiles asks, forcing Derek’s arm away from the bottle. “Where’s Braeden?”

 

And Derek’s lifting spirit quickly dies. “Not here.”

 

“I can see that. Where is she?”

 

“She felt the bond.”

 

“She felt the--Derek,” Stiles smiles squatting down so they’re face-to-face. “That’s great! Is that why you stopped the suppress--”

 

“She felt the bond with someone else,” Derek clarifies. He gets some satisfaction seeing Stiles face twist up in confusion before falling.

 

“Oh, Derek.”

 

“Jordan Parrish, before you ask. Peter’s newest head of security or whatever. He walked in the room last night and,” he holds his hands out wide and leans forward, “she felt the bond.”

 

“I know this is hard for you,” Stiles begins, but Derek cuts him off with a laugh.

 

“What? Because I was in love with her?” Derek asks, the confused look appearing on Stiles’ face again, and Derek wants to reach out to touch--Derek is drunk. 

 

He shakes his head and continues, “I spent the past eight months with her and she never once used suppressants because she wanted to make sure she wasn’t feeling something artificial.” He settles deeper into his chair and offers Stiles a smile. “I’m happy for her, if you want to know. This started off as a celebration drink. Celebrating the biological, psychological, and physiological pull of the bond that my family--us Hales--have tried to tamp down with the invention of the suppressants. Isn’t that something, huh?”

 

“Derek--”

 

“So I stopped my suppressants, Stiles. I didn’t take one last night, and I feel good. So good, in fact, that I’m pretty certain I could make some omega feel good as well.” He stands up, steadies himself, and takes a step toward Stiles.

 

Stiles hands reach out to hold onto Derek’s arms in what appears to be an attempt to steady him. “Derek.”

 

“Malia is so right about these things being actual suppressors,” Derek says, feeling himself lean in to Stiles involuntarily. “I mean, I knotted for the first time this morning when I was in the shower. It’s the first time since I was in high school. I felt it swell up in my hand--” 

 

“Stop,” Stiles says, voice firm, though not as firm as it usually seems to be. His face appears to have reddened with a look that resembles embarrassment as his eyes are downcast, and his hands flex on Derek’s arms. Stiles shudders, and Derek gets hit with some _smell_. He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but it causes something to stir inside of Derek. It’s enough to make Derek dizzy.

 

And it’s enough to make Derek take a step back from the omega. 

 

“Look,” Stiles says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I can see if we can find someone else. I know this girl, Heather--”

 

“Stop, Stiles. Just stop worrying about this. You worry so much because I’m not mating or bonding or doing whatever it is that I’m supposed to be doing to make your job easier, and I’m sorry.” He turns his back to Stiles. “I just want to be alone.” 

 

He doesn’t hear Stiles leave, but hears the steps of Stiles’ shoes on the wooden floor move toward him. Stiles steps between Derek and Peter’s desk, forcing Derek to meet his eyes.

 

“I’ll stop.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’ll stop. I’ll stop with the mating and the bonding shit. Peter’s won the Presidency, so you can’t really ruin him there unless something unprecedented happens--okay, which could happen.”

 

Derek snorts in agreement.

 

“The general public loves you,” Stiles continues, his eyes beginning to dart around the room like they do when he’s coming up with a plan. “You’re the most liked Georgetown history professor--probably ever. We have no reason to be concerned about you.” He looks back up at Derek. “I’ll stop. I’ll tell Peter we’re stopping.”

 

“God, Stiles. You don’t have to--”

 

“I want to,” Stiles cuts him off. He shrugs. “Think of it as an anniversary present.”

 

Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s not an actual anniversary--”

 

“It counts, okay,” Stiles says with a smile that Derek feels compelled to return. Derek doesn’t know how long they stand there smiling at each other while he sways slightly forward getting a whiff of the smell coming from Stiles. For some reason, it’s ten times better smelling it when he has eye contact with Stiles.

 

“I want you to go upstairs,” Stiles says, his voice lower than necessary in the quiet room, making Derek drift even closer. “I’ll find Malia and send her up to you.” He moves his hand as if to pat Derek on the arm, but aborts the move. “You’ll be okay, alright?”

 

Derek nods. “Okay,” he responds, knocking their heads together lightly before lifting his chin to lightly press his lips against Stiles’ forehead.

 

“What was that for?” Stiles asks quietly.

 

“It’s our anniversary, right?” Derek gives him a smile before turning away and heading toward the door. “Merry Christmas, Stiles,” he says as he opens the door. 

 

He looks back for a moment to see Stiles smiling at the ground.

 

&&&

 

**Christmas Eve, December 24, 2017.**

 

“Have you ever been in this room with Stiles Stilinski for more than an hour without threatening to rip his throat out?” Malia asks, filling the space beside Derek.

 

“That is a ridiculous threat,” he tells his cousin before taking a sip of the extra strong eggnog that Representative Finstock shoved into his hand minutes earlier.

 

Malia hums, looking over to where Stiles is talking with Senator Argent and her family. “Still, you guys haven’t yelled at each other yet. That’s a step up from your traditional event fights.”

 

He tries to not smile at the mention of what is now considered ‘traditional’ fights, opting for another drink of nog after he points out, “The night’s still young.”

 

“And you’re not.”

 

Derek glances at his cousin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You’re thirty-one,” Malia reminds him, rubbing her hand over his shoulder in a motherly way. “You are officially over-the-hill, and you haven’t mated.”

 

“Alphas are waiting to mate longer and longer these days,” he points out, looking around the room for a way to get out of this conversation...again.

 

“Yeah, but then they usually mate with other alphas or betas.”

 

Derek turns his head to look at her, his eyebrows raised. “Is that such a bad thing?”

 

“It is when you’re in love with an omega.”

 

“I’m not--”

 

Malia cuts him off with a sigh. “If you’re scared that he doesn’t love you back, then fine. Don’t take a chance on it. But you need to mate.”

 

Derek opens his mouth to contradict her, tired of the repeated conversation that everyone _still_ insists on having with him. But Malia raises her hand, “You’re going crazy and people are starting to talk even more.” 

 

He wants to argue with her, tell her that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about...but she’s probably right. His suppressant dose isn’t as strong as usual, and he’s been responding more to pheromones that he catches whiffs of while at work or on the street. It does make him a bit crazy. Especially when Stiles is around.

 

They’ve been spending more and more time together since last Christmas Eve. It’s distracting.

 

“I know that it’s difficult for you, especially over the past few years. But you have the ability to not only get people to stop telling you that you should mate, but to also be with the mate of your dreams. You win here, Derek.”

 

He shakes his head. “He wouldn’t think it was real.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because he’s offered before--many times, in fact--to be my mate until I find my real one.”

 

“Ever think he’s just trying to get you to realize you’re in love with him?” 

 

Derek rolls his eyes at that ridiculous possibility. 

 

“Fine,” Malia continues. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to talk to him tonight, and you’re going to ask him to be your fake mate until you feel the bond, okay? And you two are going to spend the next few months--at least--learning about each other and fake kissing, and you’re going to both fall so deeply in love with each other that you’re going to forget that you were even faking it to begin with.”

 

Derek downs more of the eggnog. “That’s a dumb idea.” And something that he would really enjoy, now that she’s brought it up.

 

“I just want you to be as happy as Kira and I are, Derek,” she says, moving her hand up to lightly grab the back of his neck. “Maybe you won’t be bonded like us, but you deserve to be happy. You deserve it more than anyone.”

 

Derek doesn’t respond, opting instead to study the glass in his hand.

 

Malia sighs, moves to stand in front of him, and puts her hands on the sides of his face. “I love you,” she says as she presses her hands into his cheeks, creating what probably looks like a fish face. “But you’re an idiot,” she finishes, then turns on her heel and walks away.

 

Derek follows her with his eyes, watching as she comes up next to her mate, Kira, one hand sliding around her mate’s waist as the other one comes to rest on Kira’s pregnant belly. Kira seems to pause her conversation with Representative Finstock for a moment to give Malia a kiss and a smile. Derek looks away.

 

But his eye immediately catches on Senator Argent and her mate, Chris, standing with their daughter Allison and her mate Scott--Stiles’ former roommates. Derek remembers how happy Allison and Scott were without the bond, and he sees how happy they appear to be still. It makes Derek want...something.

 

“Well, well, well,” Stiles says, sliding up next to Derek, pulling his attention away from the couples. “Standing by yourself with a glass of alcohol. Just like every year.”

 

He looks over at the omega and raises his eyebrows. “And you’re prying into my personal life. Just like every year.”

 

Stiles smirks. “It must be our anniversary.”

 

“Must be.”

 

They stand in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching as some couples take to the dance floor. Derek’s about to ask Stiles about his week when Stiles breaks the silence.

 

“What were you and Malia talking about?” he asks.

 

“You,” Derek responds immediately without thinking.

 

Stiles chuckles. “Oh, yeah? You Hales and your omega kinks.” He grabs Derek’s empty glass and places it on a tray passing by before grabbing two flutes of champagne and handing one to Derek. 

 

“So what were you talking about?” he asks. “My whiskey eyes? My shining personality? My sweet smells?”

 

Partially because he wants to shock Stiles, and partially because he can’t help himself, Derek asks, “Do you want to be my mate?”

 

Stiles stops, stands with his drink at his lips for a few moments. “What?”

 

“My mate,” Derek says. And suddenly, the idea sounds like a good one--one he _needs_ to have happen. The thought of Stiles being his mate makes him warm inside. But just his pretend mate. No need to freak Stiles out. “My pretend mate,” he clarifies. 

 

Stiles narrows his eyes and lowers his drink. “ _What_.”

 

“You’re the one who’s always talking about how I need to mate so people think that I’m not completely defective,” Derek continues, the idea becoming more and more tangible in his head, and a somewhat _excited_ feeling taking over his body. Jesus, what was in that eggnog Finstock gave him? 

 

“Peter would love it,” Derek adds on, not entirely certain if he’s convincing himself or Stiles here. “He’d take credit for finally getting his standoffish nephew with the omega of his dreams. It’s traditional alpha-omega marriage at its finest. It’s perfect--politics wise.”

 

There are a few more moments of awkward silence, and Derek’s about to retract the offer when Stiles says, “Um, yeah?”

 

Derek straightens up completely. “Yeah?” he asks, feeling a smile come to his face that he tries to keep down.

 

“Yeah. Yes. Definitely. Let’s do this,” Stiles says, nodding along to every word. “This is actually a really good idea. I’m pretty certain I came up with this idea a million years ago, but I’m glad you’re actually listening to me.”

 

“You’re onboard?” Derek asks, and he feels...he feels giddy? _What the hell_.

 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I have a mate or anything, right?” Stiles says, and for some reason, something in Derek feels like it’s going to burst.

 

“Right…” Derek acknowledges, trying to tamp down the feeling. 

 

“This is going to be so much fun,” Stiles says, a big smile coming to his face. “I’m going to go tell Lydia so we can plan how to break the news and draw up a NDA or something, just for precaution.”

 

“Um, okay?” Derek says, kind of confused as to how a NDA and Press Secretary Martin are both suddenly involved and why there’s a feeling in his chest that makes him happy and terrified at the same time.

 

“This is...this is going to be great.” Stiles gives him a playful smile. “Maybe later we should get a picture under the mistletoe.”

 

“People don’t really take pictures under the--” Stiles gives him a look, and Derek realizes that he’s suddenly off his game. “Oh. Right.”

 

Stiles grabs Derek’s wrist and gives it a quick squeeze before taking a step back. “I’m going to go talk to Lydia.” He checks his watch quickly and then looks up and smiles at Derek. “And I’m sure you, Malia, and Kira are going to go upstairs soon to marathon something…”

 

“The new Batmans.”

 

“Right.” Stiles smiles even broader. “Have fun.”

 

He begins to walk away and Derek feels something inside of him that seems like it’s reaching out toward Stiles. 

 

“Stiles,” he calls involuntarily.

 

He turns. “Yeah?”

 

“Maybe you should join us,” Derek says without thinking. But Stiles seems to smile shyly at the suggestion.

 

“Maybe I will,” he says, before turning around and continuing on his way.

 

Derek’s going to need stronger suppressants immediately.

 

&&&

 

**Christmas Eve, December 24, 2018.**

 

“Tell him.”

 

“No.”

 

“Derek.”

 

“Malia.”

 

“Seriously?” Malia glares at him even harder. “You have to tell him.”

 

“I don’t have to tell him anything,” Derek says, looking around the room at the same party-goers that have been here every year. 

 

“He’s going to leave if you don’t,” Malia says, moving so that she’s still in his line of vision.

 

“He won’t leave,” Derek counters as he walks toward the doors that lead outside. He knows Malia’s following after him.

 

“He will,” she says from behind him.

 

“He won’t.”

 

“Derek, he’s--”

 

Derek turns to face her, whispering angrily, “Stiles won’t leave me.”

 

“Why not, huh?” she asks, her voice also an angry whisper. “You’re not really together. It’s pretend. You both still believe that the other one thinks that this is all pretend and that you’re just friend who practices making out for hours on end. Why should he stay if he still thinks that you will never love him back?”

 

“He doesn’t love me, Malia.”

 

“Then why should he stay? Why won’t he just pick up and go? If he doesn’t have feelings for you like you say, that should make it easier for him to leave. Why would he stay if you don’t tell him that you want him here?”

 

Derek takes a step back from his cousin. “I just...I just need…”

 

“You need to get your head out of your ass and go over and tell him that you have been in love with him since you saw him talking to me four years ago,” Malia says as she takes a step toward him. “Tell him that you felt the bond.”

 

“I didn’t--”

 

She gives him a disbelieving look. “Derek.”

 

“I need some air,” he says before he turns and walks out the doors that lead outside.

 

The nearly freezing air is refreshing to his naturally hot alpha temperature, and he tries to enjoy it without letting thoughts of what Malia said to him enter his head. But he can never seem to block her out.

 

And the worst part is that she’s right. Of course she’s right. She’s always right. Not about the bond, because Derek knows that he hasn’t felt that with anyone. He’s been on suppressants all but three days in that last ten years. He knows that he hasn’t felt the pull of the bond.

 

But she’s right about him. He’s in love with Stiles. He’s been in love with Stiles. How did he let that happen?

 

“Hey, studmuffin,” Stiles’ playful voice suddenly fills the air as arms slide around Derek’s waist. He feels Stiles’ chin on his shoulder, smells his scent wafting through the air. “Happy Anniversary.”

 

“You’re leaving,” Derek says, and he feels Stiles tense.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re taking the job with Senator Argent and you’re leaving,” he turns to face Stiles, still in the omega’s arms. “Aren’t you?”

 

“No. No, of course not.” Stiles shakes his head. “Why would I leave this job? I work for the president. The president. Why would I leave?”

 

“Why would you stay?”

 

Stiles’ arms drop from around Derek. “What?”

 

“Would you stay because of Peter? Is that why you won’t take the job?” Derek asks as Stiles rubs his hand over his head.

 

“Why are we talking about this now?”

 

“Because I need to know,” Derek says. “Why won’t you leave?”

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Stiles asks, a hurt look crossing his face.

 

“Do you want to leave?”

 

“I want to stay,” Stiles says, taking a step closer to Derek. But Derek moves back, and Stiles looks as if he’s been slapped in the face. “But I’ll leave.”

 

“Stiles--”

 

“I’ll take the job with the Argents, if that’s what you want,” he tells him, suddenly shivering in the cold.

 

Derek steps forward, remembering the omega’s less adaptable body, but Stiles holds up his hand to keep Derek from him.

 

“You’re freezing,” Derek says, taking a step closer, but Stiles just takes a step back. 

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Stiles asks, and Derek can hear his teeth chattering.

 

“Stiles--”

 

“Do you want me to leave?” he repeats.

 

“You’re going to--”

 

“Answer the question.”

 

“Stiles--”

 

“Answer the fucking question.”

 

Stiles’ entire body is shaking by this point, and all Derek wants to do is wrap his arms around him to keep him warm. But there’s no way that Stiles will even let him near him without an answer.

 

“No,” Derek says finally, taking a step forward. But Stiles still takes a step back. Derek sighs. “No, I don’t want you to leave,” he clarifies, taking another step. Stiles stays still.

 

“You don’t,” Stiles says, in a way that sounds...hopeful? Doubtful? Derek can’t decide. But Stiles isn’t moving away, so Derek continues.

 

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says taking a final step into Stiles’ space. He wants to reach out and touch Stiles, but he’s scared that he might pull away. “I don’t want you to ever leave. I want you to stay.”

 

He locks eyes with Stiles as the omega lets out a visible breath. “Why?”

 

“Why what?” Derek asks, finally allowing himself to reach out to grab onto Stiles’ arms. The omega stops shaking almost immediately as Derek feels his heat transfer into the other body.

 

“Why do you want me to stay?”

 

“Because I love you,” he says, voice so quiet that he’s not even certain he said it.

 

“You love me,” Stiles whispers back in what sounds more like a realization than a question.

 

“I love you,” Derek says, his hands sliding down Stiles’ arms to his hands. He manages to lace his fingers with Stiles’ and looks down at their hands. 

 

This is not how he imagined telling Stiles that he loves him. Well, he never really imagined that he would ever tell Stiles that he loves him. But he had assumed that if he ever did, it would be loud, it would be a yell. People would hear them from neighboring cities. And yet…

 

“I love you,” Derek says again, a bit more firmly, but still softer than he thought he would. He keeps his eyes on their hands, waiting for Stiles to pull away. When he doesn’t, Derek decides to press his luck. “And you love--”

 

“I do,” Stiles says suddenly, so much louder than he had been moments before. Derek looks up to see Stiles’ eyes shining as he looks at him. “God, I fucking love you.”

 

They stand there, fingers intertwined, smiles aimed at each other, and Derek wants to kiss him so badly. But it feels strange to do that now. He’s kissed Stiles before, hundreds of times. He’ll kiss him a hundred times more. But for now, he’s content just looking at him. Because it feels like he’s looking at him for the first time, and something in him screams “ _mine_.”

 

“So I guess this means he’s staying?” Peter’s voice sounds from out of nowhere, breaking the entranced state that they’re in.

 

“It seriously always has to be about you, doesn’t it?” Malia’s voice joins.

 

Derek looks over Stiles’ shoulder to see his uncle and cousin standing at the door with glasses of wine in their hands. They smile at him, only to receive his best death glare in return. He looks back at Stiles to see him still smiling.

 

“What are you smiling at?” Derek asks.

 

Stiles makes a pleased humming sound. “I guess this is now our official anniversary.”

 

Then Stiles kisses him.

 

 

&&&

 

**Christmas Eve, December 24, 2019.**

 

Derek watches as Peter, Malia, and Kira walk around the ballroom while Malia and Kira’s son, Rhys, is carried in Peter’s arms. Peter still fulfills the presidential niceties of greeting the guests at his annual Christmas Eve party, but his attention appears to be primarily focussed on the small child in his arms. 

 

However, it does not appear that his tender behavior with the child puts Malia at rest as she hovers over his shoulder more than Kira does--and Kira’s supposed to be the anxious one. Derek swears he sees Malia snarl at a Senator who tries to give her son a high-five.

 

A glass of wine is placed into Derek’s hand as Stiles’ appears in Derek’s peripheral vision. He turns to see Stiles watching the trio make their way around the room as the omega comments, “That’s a group who knows how to sell the family unit.”

 

Derek shakes his head and looks back to his family. “Peter’s a grandfather.” He watches Peter smile at the child in his arms, and Derek shakes his head again in disbelief. “That’s something I never thought I’d see.”

 

“It’s done wonders for him in the polls,” Stiles says, drawing Derek’s attention back to him. “His numbers climb the more he’s seen with Rhys, and reelection is almost certainly in the cards. I’m excited to see what next year holds for us...”

 

He continues to go off, talking about statistics and the mundane research that he does that seems to fascinate him in ways that Derek doesn’t understand. But Stiles’ eyes light up, and he starts to talk with his hands even more than he already does. And there’s this quirk upward at the corner of his mouth that lets Derek know that Stiles is trying so hard not to let it show how excited he is to talk about his findings. It’s times like these when Stiles shows how incredibly brilliant he is that Derek finds himself falling even more in love with the omega.

 

Derek slides his arm around Stiles’ waist and presses a kiss to his neck before whispering, “Stiles,” stopping Stiles’ rambling.

 

He can hear the smile in Stiles’ voice. “Yeah?”

 

Derek pulls out a small box that holds a ring and places it into Stiles’ empty hand. “Happy Anniversary.”

 

&&&

 

**Christmas Eve, December 24, 2020.**

 

“Malia will open the doors on my signal as Scott opens Stiles’ doors,” Ms. Morrell tells Derek as she stands by the study entrance with a clipboard in hand. “If you feel the bond--”

 

“ _When_ ,” Malia interrupts.

 

“ _When_ ,” Ms. Morrell continues, “you feel the bond, the ceremony will continue as planned, but with the bonding vows and the sealing. But if you don’t, it’ll continue with the traditional mating ceremony.”

 

“We don’t have to worry about that,” Malia says confidently, looking over her shoulder at Derek. “Right?”

 

Derek’s pretty certain he nods, but he can’t be certain. His senses have been cloudy since he stopped his suppressants a week before. That, combined with the fact that he hasn’t seen Stiles in over a week since the traditional pre-ceremony banquet, creates a less than ideal mental state.

 

He’s too focused on the thrumming in his fingers that he doesn’t notice that Ms. Morrell has left the room until Malia slides her hands over his shoulders for the upteenth time in that way that he assumes is supposed to make him less nervous. It’s not working. 

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“What if it’s not him?” he asks as she moves her hands to straighten his tie. He can feel himself shaking. Maybe this was a bad idea.

 

Malia sighs as she pats down the silk material. “Does it really matter if it’s not?”

 

He looks up at the ceiling. “Malia--”

 

Her hand grabs hold of his chin and directs his face so that he’s looking directly at her. “Can you honestly tell me that if he walks toward you when you’re standing at that altar and you don’t feel the bond that you’re going to walk away from him? That you won’t accept him as your mate?”

 

Derek stops and looks at his cousin, at the lack of concern on her face. He knows that she wouldn’t make him go through with the ceremony if she thought there was a chance that he would leave Stiles without a mate. She’s always been more certain of his feelings for Stiles than he has. 

 

But it’s her certainty that solidifies his own; he doesn’t need to be off suppressants to be a hundred percent certain that he wants to mate with Stiles. Stiles is it for him. Stiles has always been it for him.

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Stop stressing,” she says before planting a kiss on his cheek.

 

The doors open and Ms. Morrell slips back in. “It’s time,” she says.

 

Malia gives his shoulder one last pat before she turns from him and stands at the door as the music swells from the inside of Peter’s ballroom--the signal that the ceremony is about to begin.

 

The music swells and Malia opens the doors for Derek on Ms. Morrell’s signal. Derek sees Stiles’ best friend Scott open the doors on the opposite side of the ballroom. As soon as Malia and Scott step to the side of the doors, Derek takes a step forward into the room, his eyes meeting Stiles’.

 

Derek feels the bond.

 

 

 


End file.
